Chapter 4 The Game

The jersey sat in my locker like a ticking bomb.

I hadn't worn it. Hadn't even taken it out of my backpack since Liam left it there. Every time I opened the locker door, there it was. Blue and gold. Tags still on. A promise I didn't ask for.

Noa noticed me staring at it between classes.

"You're not actually considering wearing that, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Because Sabrina will literally kill you."

I slammed the locker shut and headed to English. The hallway was crowded. People parted around me like I had a disease. The video of Liam and me in the hallway was still making rounds. Someone had added music. Someone else had made a meme.

I kept my head down.

---

The ambush came after sixth period.

I was walking to the east stairwell, the one with the broken light, trying to get to my next class without passing the main quad. Bad idea. Stupid idea. I knew it the second I pushed the door open.

Sabrina was there. Waiting.

She wasn't crying anymore. Her mascara was fresh. Her hair was perfect. Her smile was the worst part.

"The scholarship girl," she said. "I was hoping you'd come this way."

I turned to go back out. One of her friends blocked the door.

"Leaving so soon?"

"What do you want, Sabrina?"

"The jersey."

My blood went cold.

"The one Liam gave you. I know you have it. I want it back."

"It's not yours."

"It's not yours either." She stepped closer. The stairwell was narrow. The light flickered. "He bought it with his father's money. His father's money comes from my father's investments. So technically, it's mine."

"That's not how math works."

"Don't get smart with me."

She was close now. Close enough that I could smell her perfume. Expensive. Suffocating.

"You're going to go to your locker," she said, slow and clear, like she was explaining something to a child. "You're going to take that jersey. You're going to bring it to me. And then you're going to stay as far away from Liam Whitmore as humanly possible."

"And if I don't?"

The girl blocking the door cracked her knuckles.

Sabrina smiled. "You don't want to find out."

I thought about my mom. About the diner. About the complaint that had already been filed.

"Fine," I said. "I'll get the jersey."

"Now."

"I have class."

"You have ten minutes."

She stepped aside. The girl moved away from the door. I walked out of the stairwell with my heart pounding and my hands shaking.

---

I got the jersey.

I carried it back to the east stairwell with my arms wrapped around it like it was a shield. Sabrina was still there. Still waiting. Her friends had multiplied. Four of them now. All staring.

"Took you long enough."

"I had to get it from my locker."

She held out her hand. I gave her the jersey. She held it up, inspected it, then tossed it to one of her friends.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Burn it. Maybe wear it to the game tonight. Haven't decided." She tilted her head. "Speaking of the game. You're not going."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good. Because if I see your face in that gym, I'll make sure your mother's new job finds out about the theft."

"There was no theft."

"Doesn't matter. Perception is reality."

She pushed past me, her shoulder slamming into mine. Her friends followed. The stairwell went empty.

I stood there for a long time. The lights flickered. The concrete was cold through my shoes.

Then I walked to class. Late. Again.

---

The game started at seven.

I told myself I wasn't going. I told myself Sabrina had won. I told myself it was better to stay home, to do my homework, to pretend Kensington Academy didn't exist.

But at six thirty, I was on the bus. Heading toward the school. Heading toward the gym.

I didn't have the jersey. I didn't have a ticket. I didn't have a plan.

I had something else. Something I couldn't name.

---

The gym was packed.

Blue and gold everywhere. Cheerleaders flipped across the floor. The band played the fight song. Parents filled the bleachers. Students crowded the front rows.

Sabrina was there. Front and center. Wearing the jersey.

She'd cut it. Cropped it. Tied it in a knot at her waist. She looked like she owned the place. She basically did.

I slipped in through the side door. Found a spot in the back row, near the exit. No one noticed me. No one ever noticed me.

The team ran out. The crowd erupted.

Liam was at the front. He looked different in his uniform. Bigger. Faster. Like he was built for this.

His eyes swept the stands. Stopped on Sabrina. Frowned.

Then he saw me.

In the back row. Near the exit. Hiding.

His face didn't change. But something in his eyes shifted. Softened.

I looked away first. Always.

---

The game was brutal.

Kensington's rival was bigger, faster, meaner. They fouled hard. Shoved after the whistle. The refs let most of it slide.

Liam played like a man possessed. Thirty‑five points by the fourth quarter. Rebounds. Steals. A block that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Every time he scored, he looked at the back row. At me.

Sabrina noticed.

Her head turned. Her eyes found me. Her smile didn't drop, but her jaw tightened.

I should have left. Should have run.

I stayed.

---

Kensington won by nine points.

The crowd spilled onto the court. The team celebrated. Liam broke away from his teammates and started walking toward the back row.

Sabrina intercepted him.

I couldn't hear what she said. But I saw her hand on his arm. Saw him pull away. Saw her face twist into something ugly.

Then she turned and pointed at me.

The crowd went quiet.

Liam looked at Sabrina. Then at me. Then back at Sabrina.

He walked past her. Kept walking. Up the bleachers. Past the parents. Past the students. All the way to the back row.

"You came," he said.

"I didn't wear the jersey."

"I see that."

"Sabrina took it. Made me give it back."

His jaw tightened. "I'll get you another one."

"That's not the point."

"Then what's the point?"

The gym was loud. The crowd was watching. Sabrina was staring.

"I don't know," I said. "I really don't."

He stood there. Sweaty. Breathing hard. Looking at me like I was the only person in the room.

"Stay," he said. "After everyone leaves. I need to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Because I have a proposal."

He walked back down the bleachers before I could answer.

---

The gym emptied slowly.

Parents left. Students drifted to after‑game parties. The cheerleaders gathered their pom‑poms. The band packed up their instruments.

Sabrina lingered by the exit, watching me. Her friends tugged her arm. She shook them off.

Then Liam appeared at her side. Said something in her ear. Her face went pale. She turned and walked out.

The doors swung shut.

We were alone.

Liam climbed the bleachers again. Sat down next to me. Close. Not touching.

"You're shaking," he said.

"I know."

"Are you cold?"

"I'm scared."

He didn't say don't be. Didn't say it'll be okay. He just sat there.

"You need to stop showing up," I said. "Every time you talk to me, she goes after my mom."

"I know."

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

He was quiet for a long time. The gym lights hummed. The scoreboard flickered.

"Because I'm tired," he said finally. "I'm tired of pretending. Tired of being who everyone expects me to be."

"So change."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

He turned to look at me. His eyes were dark. Serious.

"I have a deal for you," he said.

I laughed. It came out bitter. "A deal. Like a business transaction."

"Like a survival strategy."

He talked. Fast. Like he was afraid I'd walk away.

His father was threatening to pull his college funding because his image was out of control. The party Sabrina threw. The rumors. The breakup. His father wanted him to look stable. A girlfriend would fix that.

Maya needed protection. Sabrina was coming after her mother. If everyone thought Maya and Liam were together, Sabrina would target Liam instead. Plus, he would pay her family's overdue rent. Cover her mother's medical bills.

No feelings. No real dates. Public hand‑holding. Lunch together. She would come to his games. He would help her study. Expiration date: the scholarship interview in six weeks.

I listened. Didn't interrupt.

When he finished, I said one word.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you. Because you were a bully. Because I'm not a charity case."

"None of that is true anymore."

"Prove it."

He reached into his bag. Pulled out an envelope. Thick. Heavy.

"First month's rent. Cash. No strings."

"I said no strings."

"And I said no strings. Take it. Help your mom. Don't talk to me ever again if that's what you want."

I stared at the envelope.

"If I take this, you own me."

"If you take this, you survive."

The lights flickered. Somewhere in the building, a janitor whistled.

I took the envelope.

"This doesn't mean yes."

"I know."

"This doesn't mean we're friends."

"I know."

"This doesn't mean I'll ever wear that stupid jersey."

He almost smiled. "We'll see."

I stood up. Walked toward the exit.

"Maya?"

I turned around.

"The game's on Friday. Wear something blue."

He walked away before I could answer.

I stood there with the envelope in my hands. Heavy. Thick. Full of money I hadn't earned.

I didn't say yes.

I didn't say no.

I walked out into the cold night air and took the bus home.